Turkey Daze
by Sk8er Chica
Summary: When Sodapop is put in charge of cooking Thanksgiving dinner, all bets are off.
1. Chapter 1: Sodapop and Ponyboy's Idea

DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING!

A/N: Yes, I know it's a bit early for a Thanksgiving fic, but I will be busy for the week preceding it to prepare for my trip to New York. This is just a five-chapter holiday fluff piece. I hope you enjoy it.

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It was a crisp November evening. The Curtis brothers were relaxing in their living room after dinner. Twenty-year-old Darry was on the sofa with the second-youngest in the family, sixteen-year-old Sodapop. Sodapop was giving Darry a backrub because Darry had strained some muscles trying to carry too much roofing at work again. The youngest, thirteen-year-old Ponyboy, was sitting in the battered armchair reading a novel. 

"Hey, Darry," said Pony suddenly.

"What?" Darry replied, his voice muffled because he was lying on his stomach with his face pressed against the sofa cushion. He winced as Soda dug his fingers into a particularly sore spot between his shoulders and said, "Don't rub so hard, Sodapop."

"Isn't Thanksgiving in a couple days?" asked Pony.

"Yeah, I think so," said Darry. "Why?"

"I was just wondering if we were gonna do anything this year," said Pony.

Darry was silent. It hadn't been very long since their parents had died in a car accident, leaving him to look after his younger siblings.

"What do you wanna do?" asked Soda.

"I thought maybe we could have turkey and invite the boys over," Pony suggested.

"I don't know about that, Ponyboy," said Darry in a serious tone. "I wouldn't mind havin' the boys come by, but money's awful tight right now."

"Since I'm workin' now, I could pay for some of it," volunteered Soda, now kneading Darry's shoulders.

"But somebody still has to make all the food," Darry pointed out. "It's a lot of work putting together a turkey dinner. It used to take Mom all day."

"I'll do it! I know how to cook!" said Soda enthusiastically, letting go of his older brother. "Me and Pony'll work it all out so you won't have to do a thing."

Darry supposed it might be a good idea to celebrate the upcoming holiday since they hadn't even handed out candy on Halloween. "It's a plan," he consented, sitting up now Soda had stopped rubbing his back. "So what'll be on the menu, Chef Pepsi-Cola?"

Soda grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil, then laid on the floor to write out a shopping list. "Turkey, definitely," he said, jotting it down. "Do we still have Mom's old roasting pan?"

Darry shook his head. The brothers had little use for one, so he'd probably sold it or given it away after their parents' accident.

"Then how are we supposed to cook a turkey?" Pony wanted to know.

"We'll buy a new one." said Soda, writing _'roasting pan'_ on the list. "What else do we usually have on Thanksgiving?"

"Mashed potatoes and gravy," said Darry.

"Sweet potatoes," said Pony.

"And it wouldn't be Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie," said Darry.

"It sure wouldn't," Soda agreed.

"Rolls and stuffing," said Pony.

Soda hurriedly wrote his brothers' requests down. Scrawling with his tongue between his teeth, he added his own, saying it aloud as he wrote: "Cranberry sauce."

Darry and Pony flinched; they hated cranberry sauce with a passion.

"Hey, I'm cooking, so I get a say too," said Soda. He loved cranberry sauce; in fact, he could eat most of a can by himself.

"Fair enough," Darry nodded. Soda readied the pencil to add something else to the list, but Darry held up a hand. "Hold on, little buddy. We better figure out how many people are gonna be here before we start shopping."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," agreed Soda. "Who all do you guys want to have over?"

"We probably oughta invite Dally," said Darry. "I don't reckon he has anywhere else to go for Thanksgiving."

"Unless Buck's having a party," said Pony.

Darry shook his head. "Even Buck Merril takes Thanksgiving off."

"We should ask Two-Bit," said Soda. "He always makes somethin' like this a good time. I'd tell Steve to come, but he's grounded for some stupid reason. And I'd ask Sandy, but she's supposed to have dinner with her family. Pony, who do you wanna invite?"

Pony's answer was automatic: "Johnny." He couldn't leave his best friend out in the cold, especially not on Thanksgiving; he knew Mr. and Mrs. Cade didn't cook anything for the holiday.

Soda counted on his fingers. "That's six people." He promptly crossed out "turkey" on the list and wrote "BIG turkey" in its place. He looked down at the rest of his shopping list and let out a loud whistle. "Glory, this is gonna be expensive."

"You can take mashed potatoes and gravy off since we're havin' sweet potatoes anyway," Darry suggested.

Soda did that and grinned excitedly at his brother. "This is gonna be fun. We've never had the whole gang over for Thanksgiving before."

"Yeah, we always have," argued Pony. "Except for last year 'cause Dally was in the cooler and Johnny had the flu."

"Aren't you working an extra shift tomorrow?" Darry asked Soda, who nodded. "Then how are you gonna pick up the stuff for dinner?"

"I'll go on my break or somethin'," Soda answered. "Y'know what else would be fun? 'Member when we was little and Mom dressed us up like Pilgrims and Indians and she had us act out the first Thanksgiving? We could get the whole gang in on it this year."

Darry chuckled to himself, just trying to picture Dallas Winston wearing a cardboard Pilgrim's hat or a construction paper Indian headband. He'd probably beat their heads in if they so much as tried to get him to wear one.

Soda's head hurt from all the planning and thinking he'd just had to do, so he stood up from the floor and said he was going to go to sleep. Pony came into the bedroom a short while later.

"I don't know why Darry wants me in bed already," Pony complained. "I don't have to go to school tomorrow or anything."

Soda didn't answer because he was already out like a light.


	2. Chapter 2: Arrows and Shopping

Pony woke up the next morning to find Soda wasn't in the bed they had to share and the house was deadly quiet. Silence was rare in the Curtis household, so Pony was a little worried. He tried to calm himself down. Probably all that had happened was Darry and Soda had gone to work while he was asleep. Pony got dressed and stepped out into the hall.

"Darry?" he called, just to see if he really was home alone. "Sodapop?"

A suction-cup arrow whizzed by his ear as he called Soda's name.

"Morning, Pony," Soda said cheerfully.

Pony noticed a neat stack of wooden bows and suction-cup arrows next to the couch. "Wow!" he said, picking up one of the bows. "I haven't seen these in years. Where'd you find 'em?"

"Well, I was lookin' for the Christmas lights 'cause it won't be long till we'll be needin' em," Soda explained. "I knew Dad put 'em in that closet and while I was tryin' to find the lights, I saw the bows and arrows on the top shelf."

Pony experimentally fired an arrow into the hall just as Darry came out of his bedroom. Luckily for Pony, his aim was rusty; the arrow sailed right past Darry without him noticing it. Sure, they were only suction cups, but Darry wasn't exactly a morning person and he would've been mad if the arrow had hit him. Darry shuffled to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. He sat down at the table to read the morning paper, but the paper wasn't there.

"Hey, Sodapop, did the paper come yet?" Darry asked.

"Um...no..." said Soda, shifting his weight uncomfortably to one leg.

"Sodapop Patrick Curtis, don't think for one second that I can't tell when you're lyin'," snapped Darry. "You've always been a bad liar. Now where is my newspaper?"

Soda made to stuff something in a cabinet out of sight, but Darry was too quick for him. Darry was horrified at what he saw. Soda had torn up the sports section and folded it to make an Indian headdress, complete with feathers.

"Sodapop Patrick Curtis," said Darry again. "Where'd you get those feathers?"

"Me and Dally and Steve had a pillow fight a week ago...and well...we kinda busted some of the pillows. I figured I could use the feathers to make our costumes for Thanksgiving." said Soda.

"What woulda been wrong with usin' yesterday's paper, huh?" asked Darry.

"Aw, Dar, please don't be mad," begged Soda. "Look, if you turn it this way, you can still sorta read it."

Darry mumbled something that sounded like "I swear I ain't related to you sometimes." Darry finished his coffee and left for work without eating his usual bacon-egg-and tomato sandwich. Soda watched him leave with a hurt look on his face.

"Come on, Soda, cheer up," said Pony bracingly. "Darry gets mad at me all the time, but he always forgets about it by the time he gets home."

Soda nodded, finished his toast, and put on his DX baseball cap.

"I gotta be gettin' on to work," he said. "Just leave a note on the door if you go to town or somethin', okay? Be good, Pony."

Soda ended up having a problem. He bought most of the food on his break, but he didn't have enough money to get the cranberry sauce or the turkey. Never one to worry, Soda just stopped by Two-Bit's house on his way home from work. He asked Two-Bit to buy the turkey and cranberry sauce, promising that he would be paid back.

Two-Bit said, "Sure thing, Sodapop. And I'll bring it over soon as I wake up tomorrow."

Two-Bit didn't usually wake up until at least noon, but Soda wasn't worried. He didn't expect the gang to show up until six or seven in the evening, by which time everything would be ready.  
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After getting a push-start from Soda, Two-Bit drove to the town's new supermarket. He started to walk toward the back, where the meat was kept, when he noticed something unusual. Wandering around the aisles was none other than Dallas Winston, who seemed to subsist on nothing but cigarettes, liquor, and adrenaline. Two-Bit let out a loud whistle to attract his friend's attention.

"Hey, Dally," he greeted. "What the hell brought you in here?"

"Hey, man, even _I _gotta eat sometime." snapped Dallas.

"Come on, Dal, it was just a joke," said Two-Bit.

"No jokes today. I ain't in the mood," said Dallas.

"Is it Sylvia again?" asked Two-Bit. "What happened this time, Dally? You two split up?" Dallas didn't answer. "You get her pregnant?" No reply. "Did another guy get her pregnant?"

"Shut the hell up before I knock your teeth down your throat!" Dallas warned.

"Sorry," apologized Two-Bit. "Say, Dal, what're you doin' tomorrow night?"

"Nothin'."

"Darry and Soda and Pony invited us over for Thanksgiving," said Two-Bit. "You gonna come?"

Dallas shrugged. "I guess. Ain't got nothin' better to do."

"Dal," said Two-Bit. They were near the refrigerated cases that contained the meat now. "You mind gettin' us a can of cranberry sauce while I grab the turkey?"

"Done," said Dal, starting uncertainly down an aisle and out of sight.

Two-Bit put a hand on his chin, thinking. How could he get a turkey out of the store without paying the ridiculously high price being charged...?  
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Meanwhile, at the Curtises, Darry and Soda were washing the dinner dishes.

"Soda, are you sure everything's ready for tomorrow?" asked Darry for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"I got everything under control, Dar," Soda assured him. "Why don't you trust me?"

"I trust you. I just don't want everyone showin' up tomorrow hungry and leavin' the same way 'cause something didn't get done, that's all," said Darry. "You've never made a turkey dinner before."

"It shouldn't be too hard. I went through Mom's recipe file the other night and got our whole menu ready," said Soda.

Darry patted his younger brother on the shoulder. "Well, I sure can't wait to taste all your hard work tomorrow, little buddy."

Soda grinned.


	3. Chapter 3: Cooking and Cooler

A/N: I appreciate everyone who's read this story and put it in their favorites, but I'd also enjoy seeing some reviews. Thanks!

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Pony woke on Thanksgiving morning to a warm, spicy aroma and the sounds of Soda bustling around in the kitchen. He dressed, got out of bed, and walked down the hall to the living room. He turned on the television set so he could watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade and started toward the sofa. He ended up sitting on the floor because the sofa was already occupied by Johnny Cade. Johnny was asleep, curled up under his jeans jacket, his sneakers beside the couch. He'd wandered over to the Curtises at some point during the previous night.

Soda waved to his brother from the kitchen.

"Hey, Pony," he said, talking in a hoarse voice so he wouldn't wake Johnny.

"Hey, Soda," yawned Pony.

He pushed himself off the floor and went into the kitchen for a glass of chocolate milk. There was a bowl of peeled sweet potatoes on the counter, ready to be boiled; another bowl containing dough for the rolls sat rising on the windowsill. Pony recognized the spicy odor wafting from the oven as pumpkin pie. Soda had clearly been up for quite a while.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Pony," said Soda, now speaking rapidly.

There was flour all down the front of his T-shirt, along with what looked like pumpkin filling. He was moving quickly, his cheeks were very pink, and his hands seemed to be shaking.

Pony groaned. "Soda, you didn't."

"Didn't what?" asked Soda in the same odd voice.

"Did you drink some of Darry's coffee this morning?" Pony wanted to know.

"Yeah. I've never had coffee before, but it tastes pretty good, especially with sugar." said Soda. "You oughta try it sometime."

Soda and Pony turned around upon hearing a huge yawn from down the hall. A moment later, Darry shuffled into the kitchen, wearing the undershirt and sweatpants he'd slept in. He sat down at the table and rubbed his eyes.

"Morning, Dar," said Soda cheerfully.

"What time is it?" he asked.

Pony checked the clock. "It's almost ten."

"That it?" said Darry, looking perplexed. "Feels like I've been asleep all morning." He quickly noticed that his younger brother seemed more lively than usual. He sighed. "Sodapop, didn't I tell you you're not supposed to drink coffee on an empty stomach?"

Soda didn't answer. He grabbed a stick of butter and, with his tongue poking out from between his teeth in concentration, started to grease a large metal roasting pan.

"Where'd you get that?" questioned Pony.

"Johnny brought it over with him last night. His mom threw it at him before she kicked him out of the house." said Soda, shaking his head disgustedly. "Crazy old bat."

Pony blinked. It was unusual to hear Soda say anything bad about someone. Still, it was hardly surprising that he had a grudge against Johnny's mother. Nobody in the gang liked Mrs. Cade because of the way she treated her son.

"I'd march over to Johnny's place and throw it right back at her if I thought it'd do any good," said Darry. He secretly wondered why Mrs. Cade even had a roasting pan at all. To his knowledge, she had never cooked; he wasn't sure she even knew _how_.

"Darry, not so loud," said Pony. Johnny was awful sensitive about people saying anything against his parents, even though they were horrible to him.

Darry quickly changed the subject. "So is everything all set there, little buddy?"

"Yep," said Soda.

"You don't need any help with anything?" he questioned.

"Dar, I said I got it all under control." Soda replied for what seemed like the thousandth time in two days.

"Soda, you better put the turkey in soon," said Pony. He checked the refrigerator and noticed there was no turkey in it. "Where's the turkey?" he asked.

"Two-Bit's bringing it," said Soda. "He's probably home right now, waiting for the Mickey Mouse balloon to go by."

"Oh, the parade's on?" said Darry, jumping to his feet. Even though he was twenty, he still considering watching the Macy's Parade to be one of the highlights of the year.

Darry ran into the living room and plopped down on the floor in front of the TV. Soda and Pony joined him a short while later.

Over on the couch, Johnny was slowly coming to his senses. The first thing he saw when he opened his big black eyes was a bevvy of long-legged baton twirlers marching down a street amidst a shower of confetti on the television screen. He slowly sat up.

"Morning, Johnny," said Pony. "Happy Thanksgiving."

"Morning," said Johnny groggily.

"You sleep all right?" asked Darry.

Johnny shrugged. "I guess so."

"How'd you get that bruise?" Darry wanted to know, having just noticed the purple mark on Johnny's tan cheek.

"Didn't duck quick enough," said Johnny. "Ain't used to Ma bein' straight enough to aim right."

Johnny stopped himself. He didn't like to go into detail about his home life, even with close friends like the Curtis brothers, so he quickly changed the subject. "Do you guys mind if I use your shower?"

All three brothers replied, "No." Their home was open to all the Greasers in the neighborhood, in fact, most of the Greasers in Tulsa.

"If you need to, you can borrow some of my clothes," Pony offered.

"Thanks," said Johnny gratefully, standing.

He collected some clothes from Pony and Soda's room and walked into the bathroom. He undressed and stepped into the shower.  
------------------------------------  
_Meanwhile..._

Officer Harris was extremely irritated. He shouldn't be doing guard duty at the county jail today. He should be at home with his family; it was Thanksgiving, for Pete's sake. Officer Alexander, who was _supposed _to be working today, had run off somewhere. Adding to his feelings of frustration was the fact that one of the jail's two prisoners had been playing the harmonica for the past hour.

Keith Mathews, aka Two-Bit, was sitting on a cot with a harmonica in his mouth. He wished there was TV at the jail so he could watch the Mickey Mouse balloon go by in the Macy's Parade. He tried to play "The Mickey Mouse March" on the harmonica, but since he didn't really know how to play the instrument, all he managed to produce were the off-key cries of a suffering harmonica.

"Two-Bit, I swear to God I'm gonna break your neck if you keep that up," threatened his cellmate.

Dallas Winston leaned against the wall of the cell. His head was pounding and he felt like he was going to snap if he didn't get a cigarette _fast_.

Two-Bit ignored Dallas and continued his attempts at music. Before Dallas could start to administer a thorough thrashing, Officer Harris walked over with his hands pressed against his ears.

"Mr. Mathews!" he shouted.

Two-Bit stopped. "What?" he asked, an innocent look on his face.

"Do you boys know anyone who has thirty dollars?" Officer Harris questioned.

"Maybe." said Dallas. "Why?"

"'Cause if you can get 'em over here with the money, I'll let you both out. You're driving me crazy!"

"Let us out, huh?" said Two-Bit. "Well, in that case, sure we do."

Officer Harris unlocked the cell and led the two boys to the phone. Two-Bit picked up the receiver and started to dial.

"I'm callin' Darry." he said to Dallas. "He'll come get us."


	4. Chapter 4: Cranberry Caper

Johnny ambled out of the Curtis's bathroom, his wet black hair flopping into his eyes. He was glad to be out of the clothes he'd been wearing for two days straight. All he needed was a good meal and he'd feel completely normal again. He entered the kitchen and found his three friends. Pony was dealing out a game of solitaire and Soda was extracting a pumpkin pie from the oven.

"Where the hell is Two-Bit?" asked Darry, who was trying to work the crossword puzzle printed on one of the Indian headbands. He was a little annoyed because the turkey had yet to arrive.

"I don't know," replied Soda. "I told him we were eating at seven."

Johnny looked at the clock; it was almost three. He hoped Two-Bit would hurry up. His stomach had been growling continually since the previous night.

"He'll be here," said Soda. "He said he would be."

"Look, I know he's our buddy and all, but you gotta admit Two-Bit ain't the most reliable guy in the world." said Darry. He turned to his brothers. "Do you two have any clue where he is?"

"Nope," said Pony. "I already called Mrs. Mathews. She said she was kinda worried 'cause he never came home last night. I told her we'd call her if he shows up over here."

A moment later, everyone present heard the shrill ringing of the telephone.

"Wonder who that could be," mused Soda. He walked over to the wall and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"_Hey, Soda,_" greeted the voice of Two-Bit.

"Hey, Two-Bit. So what time are you plannin' on bringing the turkey over?" asked Soda.

"_Um...I can't. I got sort of a problem right now,_" said Two-Bit. "_Listen_, _I know it's a lot to ask, but could you and Darry spare...maybe thirty bucks_?"

"I don't know; I'll have to check." Soda turned to his brother. "Darry, can Two-Bit borrow thirty bucks from us?"

"What for?" asked Darry.

"What for?" Soda repeated into the telephone.

Two-Bit chuckled. "_Well, it's kind of a funny story, really. See, I went out last night to get the turkey, like you asked me to. While I was in the store, I ran into Dally. Real weird to be seein' Dally in the grocery store, let me tell ya._"

Soda could already tell this was building into one of those stories where it would take forever before Two-Bit got to the point.

_"He says hi and I says hi back. He asks what I'm doin' and I say y'all invited us for Thanksgiving and it's my job to get the turkey and the cranberry sauce. Dally says he'll get the cranberry sauce and goes down one of the aisles. I'm starin' into the freezer case, tryin' to figure out how to sneak one of them big turkeys outta the store. I thought that if I stuffed it up my shirt, I'd just look like I was fat and nobody'd suspect a thing._"

Soda allowed himself a grin and shook his head. Typical Two-Bit.

_"So I did. I caught up to Dally and we started to walk out. We got out of the store, no problems. Well, the turkey was awful cold and I wanted to get it off, so I tried to scoot it on outta my shirt. It wouldn't budge. Ya know why? The damn turkey was stuck to me! I told Dally what was wrong and we was tryin' to pull it off when we ran right into a couple cops. Since the turkey fell outta my shirt and they found the cranberry sauce in Dally's jacket, well..._" He trailed off.

"Dally and Two-Bit are in the cooler," Soda reported to Johnny and his brothers.

"What'd they do?" asked Johnny.

"Well, since it's Two-Bit, I'm guessin' something got stolen," said Pony.

"Yeah. He tried to steal a turkey and Dally swiped a can of cranberry sauce," said Soda.

"_Are y'all payin' to get us out or not?_" yelled Two-Bit from the other end of the line. "_I got frostbite on my belly and the fuzz wouldn't take me to the hospital._" They heard chuckling in the background. "_Dallas, quit laughin'!_" barked Two-Bit. "_It really hurts._"

"Two-Bit wants to know if we're bailing him and Dal out," said Soda, addressing his older brother.

There didn't seem to be any choice. If Dally and Two-Bit weren't let out of the cooler, then the Curtis brothers and Johnny wouldn't have the main course for Thanksgiving dinner. Darry sighed, fished three ten-dollar bills out of his wallet, and laid them on the kitchen table.

"Good-bye Christmas," he mumbled.

"Okay, we got the money," Soda told Two-Bit. "We'll come by in a few minutes to get ya. Just hang tight, Two-Bit, okay?"

"_Okay. 'Bye,_" said Two-Bit.

The Curtis brothers and Johnny took Darry's truck to the police station. The officer on duty looked relieved to see them. He collected the money and was out the door; he didn't even ask them to sign any forms. After making the short drive from the station to the Curtis house, everyone found a place to sit in the living room and Darry turned on the football game. Soda went in the kitchen to stuff the turkey and put it in the oven.

Two-Bit yanked up his T-shirt to reveal a purplish-red oval mark that stretched from the middle of his chest to the waistband of his jeans.

"Look at this," he complained. "Damn, frostbite hurts!"

Dallas shrugged. "What ya get for bein' a dumbass."

"Dal, it does look kinda bad," said Darry.

Soda walked in from the kitchen and examined Two-Bit's injury. He went into the bathroom for the hot-water bottle, which he filled at the sink and brought into the living room.

Two-Bit looked dubiously at the hot-water bottle. "You sure this is gonna work?" he asked, laying it on his belly.

Soda nodded. "It's what Mom did when I picked Johnny up from the lot last winter and I didn't put on my shoes."

The boys settled back to watch the football game, enjoying the smell of turkey wafting out of the kitchen. Soon, however, apopleptic popping noises started to echo out from the oven.

"Sodapop, what did you stuff the turkey with?" asked Darry.

"Popcorn, like Mom always did," Soda replied. "Why?"

"Did you pop it first?" asked Pony.


	5. Chapter 5: Turkey Crisis

Soda bit his lip. "Was I supposed to?"

The popping grew louder. Soda made a mad dash to the kitchen and turned off the oven. He looked inside it to see how much damage had been done. The turkey seemed salvageable, but the popcorn was pretty burnt. Since Darry was always telling him they shouldn't waste food, Soda dumped the popcorn out of the cavity of the turkey and into a large bowl.

"Who wants popcorn?" Soda asked, carrying the bowl to the living room.

"Gross!" his brothers and friends shouted in unison.

Dallas threw a sofa cushion at him. Soda dodged the cushion, but dropped the bowl of popcorn in the process.

"I'm sorry," Soda said quickly, more to Darry than anyone else.

Darry heaved a sigh. "It's okay, little buddy. I'll get the broom."

Darry swept the floor, then opened the living room and kitchen windows in a vain attempt to rid the house of the smell of burnt popcorn. Being that it was November, this made the house quite chilly. It wasn't long before everyone who hadn't previously been wearing a jacket found one to put on. Soda was the only one not bothered by the temperature because he was in the kitchen, where it was nice and warm. He continued to cook, listening to his fellow Greasers bellow at the television.

"Come on, you lousy punk, get that guy! Trip him! Tackle him! Dogpile!" That had to be Dally.

"What is wrong with that coach? Doesn't he know _any _play besides Hail Mary? Run a blitz on 'em! Your guys are twice their size!" Trying to talk strategy, that must be Darry.

"Have a nice trip! See you next fall!" The only one who would wisecrack about a football game was Two-Bit.

Soda felt alone and isolated, stuck in the kitchen and unable to see what was happening in the game. In sixteen years, he had never missed watching a Thanksgiving football game. Looking at his mom's recipe book, Soda realized he had a big problem: The rolls had to be cooked at a much lower temperature than the turkey. Oh well, he'd have to stick them in the oven anyway. That was the only way to make sure dinner would get to the table on time. He started to wonder how his mom had managed it all, especially with her three active sons and half the neighborhood kids crammed into the tiny house for Thanksgiving.

"Ponyboy!" called Soda. "Can ya come in here and set the table?"

"Sure," said Pony grudgingly. Soda _had_ to ask him to do something just when the football game was getting good.

Pony went into the kitchen, gathered up plates and silverware, and started putting them on the table.

"Ponyboy, can I tell you somethin' without you tellin' all the guys?" asked Soda, looking serious.

"I won't tell a soul," Pony promised. "What is it?"

"I reckon the turkey might be ruined. It's gonna taste like the burned popcorn that was in it," said Soda. He groaned and sank into one of the chairs. "What am I gonna do? I ruined Thanksgiving."

"No, you didn't," said Pony. "I can stall for time while you think of a solution. I could...make placecards."

"We can't eat placecards," Soda pointed out.

"I know that," said Pony, "but if I made 'em, we'd have more time to think."

Soda checked his watch. "It's about time to get the turkey out."

Soda walked over to the oven and extracted the roasting pan from the oven. The turkey smelled like any other turkey he'd ever had and looked like any other turkey he'd ever had.

"So far so good," said Pony, trying to cheer up his brother.

Soda picked up the carving knife. "Think they'd mind if I had some, just to make sure it tastes okay?"

Pony shrugged. He didn't think so. He watched as Soda carefully carved a small piece off the turkey's side. Soda tasted it; his face lit up.

"Hey, this ain't too bad!" he said.

He cut off another piece and offered it to Pony.

"It's kinda smoky," said Pony. "But, yeah, it's real good, Soda."

Soda carved a big chunk off the turkey for himself.

"Soda, the turkey's for all of us." Pony reminded his older brother.

Soda swallowed and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I just haven't eaten all day." He took off his apron, marched into the living room, and announced, "Dinner is served."

He was nearly trampled by his friends in their rush to get to the table. When Darry sat down, he noticed the chunk missing from the turkey. He smiled knowingly at his younger brother. Pony brought the serving dishes over and the Greasers got ready to enjoy the turkey, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, orange rolls, and blue sweet potatoes.

THE END


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